Tis The Season To Be Jolly
by TheWeaselette
Summary: The Ravenclaws have an interesting discussion in their common room one cold evening. Why does Anthony always over-analyse things, why is Christmas a sad time for Kevin and when has Michael written a poem? A one-shot about the meaning of Christmas.


**A/N****: I was thinking about the impending holidays and this one-shot came to mind. What does Christmas mean to you?**

**'Tis The Season To Be Jolly**

"So, tell me, what does Christmas mean to each one of you?" Michael Corner asked, one cold evening in the Ravenclaw common room.

Sixth-year Ravenclaw students were huddled up by the fireplace, some reading, others talking or playing chess and Gobstones. It was the end of November, which also meant winter would officially be starting in less than a month. Everyone seemed excited, as Ravenclaws particularly treasured such sweet, friendly moments by the fireplace.

Terry Boot raised his head. He had been one of Michael's two best friends for six years and he had never heard his friend express any wish to start a theological debate on a chilly autumn evening.

"Well, I think it's a time to spend with your family and friends," said Lisa Turpin, who was lying on her stomach, reading a book and waving her feet in the air. "It's a happy period, a holiday."

Anthony Goldstein adjusted his glasses and sat cross-legged on the blue carpet. He ran his hand through his golden hair, something that he always did when deep in thought.

"Well, I've always wondered about that, actually," he finally said. "I always look at Christmas as something that could've been, but never was."

"What do you mean?" asked Mandy Brocklehurst, who was playing chess with Su Li.

"Well," Anthony began, "I first wondered about Christmas when I was six years old. My Mum and Dad had a serious conversation with me."

"Ah," said Su. "I think I know what conversation you're talking about."

Anthony grinned at her.

"I think you do as well, Su. Anyway, Mum told me that Christianity is the most important religion in England. I was curious about what she meant. At that point, I really didn't know much about other cultures, other civilisations or other religions. Dad explained that both himself and Mum were Jewish, although they don't strictly follow the rules. Mum told me that I could make a decision: I could continue to celebrate Christmas as before, receiving presents, eating turkey and pudding and having a jolly good time, or I could celebrate Hanukkah, which also meant having a jolly good time, just in some different ways."

"Your parents gave you a choice of religion so early in your childhood?" asked Stephen Cornfoot. "Blimey, Tony, that must be why you over-analyse things so much."

"Quite possibly, Steve," Anthony said with a smile. "So, true to my six-year-old self, I asked, 'Mum, do you get gifts for Hanukkah?' and Mum told me that you could if you wanted, that you ate good food, played games and sometimes even got money. Even as a child, I was very interested in differences between people, so I decided to continue being Jewish, to not celebrate Christmas, but Hanukkah instead. So, in a way, Christmas is a holiday that I could've made my own, but never did."

Michael smiled and sat down next to Anthony.

"See, that's the explanation I want to hear!" he said, giving Anthony a one-armed hug. "Come on, people, what does Hanukkah, I mean, Christmas mean to you?"

Su Li got up from the chair she sat on and moved to one of the blue sofas.

"Well, my parents are Buddhists, but I'm mostly an atheist. I like celebrating Christmas because it has a certain feel to it, as if everything in the world is right, as if everyone is trying not to fight and be happy."

Terry nodded his head at that, moving closer to the fireplace.

"I've learned long ago never to judge people based on their religion, race, gender, sexual orientation or whatever makes them different from the majority. I think I've always been sort of an atheist. I remember thinking, 'How can there be a God when so many terrible things are happening?'"

The room became solemn for a moment, as that is what most of them were thinking that year. If God exists, why isn't he stopping this mess, You-Know-Who, death, destruction?

"Also," Terry continued, "you have to remember I grew up next to Wayne Hopkins, who hates religion more than anything in the world. So, if anyone asked, I would never call myself religious. However, Christmas does produce a certain feeling, a feeling of hope and love... It's like all the magic of the world is alive and strong for that one day and no one can feel bad."

Everyone silently contemplated Terry's words.

"I don't feel very good about Christmas, myself," said Kevin Entwhistle after a few moments.

Everyone seemed to fall silent again, as they all knew why Kevin felt bad on Christmas day.

"As you know, my Mum died on December 25th 1990, when I was just ten," he said bitterly. "She went peacefully, almost happily, not hooked to hospital machines any more. I couldn't have wished for a better way to go, but, of course, that means Christmas really isn't the jolliest time for me. The only reason why I find at least a bit of happiness in it is because Mum told me that, no matter on what day she died, Dad and I don't cry on that day, but celebrate the amazing life she has lived through."

Stephen Cornfoot placed his hand on Kevin's back comfortingly. Michael stood up again, his black hair shining oddly because of the fire.

"I've written a poem about Christmas a long time ago," he said, obviously embarrassed. "I thought I could share it with you.

_What is Christmas, I ask myself  
A time to read all the books on that shelf?  
An odd beginning, a new tomorrow,  
Maybe a time to drown my sorrow?_

_Possibly, a time of joy and beauty  
For Father Christmas, a line of duty  
A beautiful day, very fluffy and sweet  
A lovely holiday, never to be obsolete._"

A round of applause followed Michael's performance. He smiled at his friends, gave a little bow and sat down once again.

"It's a bad poem," he said with a grin, "but it is what it is, just like Christmas. None of us can define Christmas, because it means something different to each one of us. A happy day," he nodded to Lisa, "a sad day," he smiled at Kevin, "a day of decisions," he patted Anthony's back, "but most of all, something we will never understand completely," he finished, sharing a smile with Terry.

Lisa suddenly got up.

"For Christmas, I would like a new romance novel and for this war to end," she said, looking out the tall window to the starry sky.

"For Christmas," said Anthony, getting up to stand next to Lisa, "I want a new chess set and the end of the war."

Terry grinned at his two friends, getting up himself.

"For Christmas," he said, "I would really like an 'Outstanding' grade in Herbology, for a change, and, of course, for this damned war to end."

"For Christmas," Kevin said, holding Lisa's hand and smiling, "I want the war to end and to spend the happiest moments of my life with my friends and my family, because we might not have a future. We must live our lives to the fullest, always together, especially now, with dark times ahead."

He looked around the common room, smiling at his friends and then gazed up at the dark sky, a tear sliding down his cheek.


End file.
